A Strange Night
by jkdg3461
Summary: ONESHOT. Harry can't remember the night before, but Malfoy knows it was good. Drabbleish, SLASHY.


Harry wakes up with his head throbbing painfully – his _whole_ head, not his scar. He can vaguely remember a gigantic party the night before, but he can't remember _why_ the party was held in the first place, or why his head hurts so much. He sits up in bed, rubbing his temples.

After a long, hot shower, Harry heads down to the almost-deserted common room. Ginny is sitting on one of the long couches with her back to him, surrounded by a few of her friends.

"Ginny?" Harry says, wincing at the light. Her red head whips round and Harry sees the tear-tracks on her face. Then, to his surprise, she hunches over and begins to sob loudly.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" he tries, shooing her glaring friends away. He kneels in front of her on the floor and tries to gently pull her hands away from her face. She stands up quickly; her knees bash into his chin and make him bite his tongue.

"You – you –" she sputters. Harry stands up, massaging his jaw. Then she slaps him across the face, making him stumble and knocking his glasses askew, and runs upstairs into the dormitories, her friends trotting after her.

Harry touches his burning cheek and tries to remember what he did to make his girlfriend like this.

Still very confused, he heads into the Great Hall for some breakfast. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs glance at him briefly and then dissolve into snorts of laughter. The Slytherins openly stare at him, and Pansy Parkinson is glaring daggers and looks as though she's muttering Unforgivable curses.

Bewildered, Harry sits down at the Gryffindor table in between Ron and Hermione. Their heads were bent in deep conversation, but when he plunks himself on the bench they look up in surprise.

"Surprised you could show your face, mate," Ron says quietly. Harry looks around the Gryffindor table, and a few curious faces glance at him, and then quickly look away. Hermione simply reaches for another piece of toast and pulls a book out of her bag.

"Ron," Harry says suddenly. "Hermione, what happened last night?"

They look at him with some surprise. Hermione freezes with the toast halfway to her mouth.

"You don't _remember_?" Hermione says incredulously, the toast slipping from her hand and landing, butter-side down, on her open book.

"Obviously not," Harry replies. "And, um, Ginny hit me in the common room."

"Don't blame her," Ron whispers, his face slowly turning red. He turns to Hermione. "Remember, 'Mione, he was completely trashed while it… Er… Happened."

Hermione ignores the nickname and mutters to Ron, "Yes, but, it's not like this is something he could just _forget_. I mean, nobody else is likely to forget it any time soon."

"Um," Harry says so loudly that half the Hufflepuffs turn and giggle at him. "Is anyone going to actually _tell_ me what I supposedly did?"

Ron and Hermione glance at each other.

"Fine," Hermione says. "You explain, Ron." She began cleaning up her greasy book.

"Well," Ron said, dropping his voice to an almost inaudible level. "We were all at that party – you know, the House unity one – and Seamus kept giving you bottles of Firewhiskey."

"Which explains the headache," Harry says, straining his ears to hear Ron.

"I told him to stop it," Hermione says, pocketing her wand. "But he wouldn't."

"So, anyway," Ron continues. "You decided it would be funny if you went up to Malfoy, and, um."

"Yes, hilarious, Potter," says a cold voice from behind them. The three of them turn to find themselves nose-to-robe with Snape. The Hall falls unnaturally quiet.

"Um," Harry says, instantly regretting looking upwards. Snape's nose looms above them like a cliff face. "Thanks."

"I might add," Snape adds, before marching away. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

He leaves the Hall in stunned silence and resumes his seat at the staff table.

"Did he," Hermione says, her eyes wide. "Or did he _not_ just say, 'Twenty points _to_ Gryffindor'?"

The table is suddenly alive with murmurs. Ron, Hermione and Harry turn back to their plates in shock.

"Why would he –?" Harry splutters.

"Oh, no," Ron starts. "This must mean that Malfoy –"

"Exactly right, Weasley," says a familiar voice behind them. Yet again, they turn to find themselves facing a Slytherin.

Draco Malfoy stands before them in all his arrogant glory. Harry scowls at him.

"What do you _want_, Malfoy?" he grits out.

"Well," Malfoy says, leaning forward. The Hall suddenly seems airless. Harry glances from side to side, and finds that Hermione and Ron have disappeared. He hears the door slam behind them. The Hall is strangely silent again.

"I just wanted to thank you," Malfoy continues in a low voice.

"Thank me for – for _what_?" Harry yelps as Malfoy's hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"For last night, of course," Malfoy says, and kisses him hard on the lips. The world seems to spin a hundred times faster.

"_No_," Harry says, stunned. His word is muffled by Malfoy's mouth and he wrenches himself away, bright red and panting. Ginny, who has just entered the Hall, squeals and runs out again, crying.

"Yes," Malfoy says, raising his eyebrows.

"I _didn't_," Harry almost yells, his eyes going wide.

"You did," Malfoy replies calmly.

They stare at each other for what feels like eternity. Finally, McGonagall clears her throat and Harry breaks eye contact, staring instead at the floor.

"Meet me later, Potter," Malfoy says, leaning down to kiss Harry on the cheek, smirking all the while. "You're a very… Uh, _entertaining_ drunk, I'll give you that."

Harry is left to stare at Malfoy's receding back as he saunters out the door.

**ohnonotthisagain**

**A/N:** Okie dokes. I would just like to send out love to the writers of all... Umm... (counts)... _Forty-one_ reviews. I love you all. Especially Dreamer of Dragons, who seems to have taken the responsibility of being my own personal fan club. Or something like that, anyway.

I love you! (:


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